


Operation Cherry Picker

by Evilpyecat



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempt at Humor, Drama, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F.A.C.E. Family, Family Drama, M/M, Protective!Canada, Romance, Yaoi, uke!america
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilpyecat/pseuds/Evilpyecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a story about how America loses his prudish ways... among other things. Main pairing isn't established yet, but will appear as the story progresses. There is an attempt a humor, and will evolve into romance as it rolls along. Setting is in June of 1956.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Those Hips!

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! IT IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA, AND STUDIO DEEN. I MAKE NO MONEY FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!

"What the hell is this guy's problem?"

This was the question running through America's head as he sat in front of the television. Never before had he seen such a vulgar display, in public or private. Of course, times were changing in his country, and this was just one of many signs of the things to come. He expected that before long there would be much worse to deal with. But at this particular moment in time, the young man on the screen swishing his hips side-to-side was enough of a shock to hold him over.

America, or Alfred F. Jones to his friends, had made it a point to keep his country's ethics and morals out of the gutter. And for a long time, he had succeeded. Yeah, there were some exceptions that had slid past his radar, but those things were kept to one's self, and out of the eyes and ears of children.

This boy on the television was one of those things, it would seem. Elvis Presley was his name. His popularity was due to his music of choice, something that sounded like a tune out of a backwoods bootleg joint that was being called rock and roll, accompanied by his baby-faced looks and vulgar displays that were obviously sexual in nature. And he wasn't the only one who thought so, if one was to judge the situation by the many letters flooding the FBI declaring him "a threat to national security", after he autographed a girl's thigh a couple of months before hand. Yes, this was a problem, and a definite threat to the purity of the young American's mind.

Alfred made his decision right then and there. He had to do something about this Presley guy. Immediately!

The next day Alfred set out on his self-appointed campaign. By the end of the week he had drove his government nearly to the breaking point with his fits. Yes, they saw where he was coming from. No, they could not justify assassinating the performer without having just cause to do so. No, they would not take CBS off the air, nor would they force them to change their program line-up to nothing but religious specials. Yes, they could work on integrating subliminal messaging into the shows, but it would take a bit of time to do so. He would just have to be patient.

That word wasn't in the American dictionary according to Alfred. Enraged at the almost passive stance his people were taking, he took it upon himself to come up with a solution. Another week passed, and with it the transformation of America's living room from the new-age 50's look to a warzone of maps, graphs, plot charts, and weaponry.

And this is the scene Arthur Kirkland, better known as England, was drug into the following week. He had protested the choice made by the other countries to send him to find America, who had missed the last world meeting. Why in the bloody hell was it his responsibility to keep track of him?! He did have a brother just north of him. Why not send Canada instead? But as usual, no one had thought of the poor boy, so the task had fallen to him.

Stepping up to the door of Alfred's country home, he jabbed the doorbell, and stood somewhat impatiently waiting for a response. Only a moment later, and after what sounded like Alfred falling over half the furniture in the house, the door was snatched open.

"Arthur! Just the guy I need on the case! Come in, quick!"

"What the- HEY! Let me go, you stupid git! You'll pull my bloody arm off!"

Alfred ignored him, and dragged the elder nation inside, depositing him on the living room couch.

"Man, I am so glad you came." Alfred sat down in an armchair across from Arthur, flashing his devil-may-care smile at the ruffled Brit.

Arthur glared back, unfazed by the Hollywood charm radiating from him. "Boy, I did NOT teach you to treat your house guests in such a manner! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" He sniffed at him in disdain, and turned his head away to focus his gaze outside. "And mentioning shaming actions, where were you last Thursday?! You missed the meeting!"

Alfred rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the coffee table. "Dude, seriously, there are much more important things to discuss at the moment than Korea and Russia. America's innocence is at stake!"

A bushy eyebrow disappeared behind golden bangs. He really didn't just hear what he thought he heard did he? "What?"

"Yeah dude! You see, there was this guy…" Alfred proceeded to explain the dire situation at hand, nearly in tears by the end of his tirade, having flung himself from his seat to pile up on Arthur's legs during the middle of it. "… I mean, who the hell gets on stage and jiggles their junk around like that?!"

Arthur was, needless to say, unimpressed. Even though his country was conservative in its own right, it definitely wasn't a puritan state. Every proper British gentleman enjoyed an occasional dive into things of the naughty sort. Quite frankly, he found himself relieved.

"What's so wrong with it? It's about time someone livened up the scene. I mean, really Alfred, every time I make a trip over here I feel like I'm attending church. And it's not like you and your precious country are complete innocents." He stroked his hair in a consoling manner, hoping he saw reason.

Alfred glared up at him, his cheek pressed against a kneecap. How DARE he call him out on his chastity?! "I'll have you know that I have kept my country and I free of such filth ever since I became independent! I wouldn't lower myself to such demeaning acts like that… that… UGH!" He buried his face in Arthur's lap, the scene from the television program playing over and over in his mind. Those damn hip movements!

The older one sighed heavily. He hadn't been here for ten minutes, and he was already getting a headache. It was times like this that made him wish that he had just drowned the brat when he was younger. "Alfred, get real here for a second, would you? The world is changing, at an alarming rate no less. Perhaps this is what will define the era. A sexual revolution of sorts, more or less."

The look on the young nation's face was similar to what you would expect to see from someone who had just been informed of the massacre of their family and friends.

"God, NO! No no no! I won't let it happen! No way, man!"

"And just why the fuck not, you narrow-minded git?!" He gave Nantucket a harsh tug, earning himself a yelp.

"Because it's bad, that's why!"

"What?!" Now Arthur fixed his gaze on the boy trying to hide in his lap, the conversation becoming more and more unbelievable by the second. "What is so bad about it? It's only natural to be interested in it. At one point or another, most will feel compelled to experience things of that nature. I mean, it's not like you're a virgin or anything. You understand what I'm saying."

"Uhh…" Alfred looked away, a painting hanging on the wall that he had received as a gift from Norman Rockwell suddenly becoming quite interesting.

"Alfred. You do understand me, right?"

Arthur was overwhelmed by a nagging suspicion. One that he desperately tried to deny with all his might.

"Right?"

Alfred focused on the puppy in the picture. He really liked how Mr. Rockwell made his work all cute and innocent looking. Perfect for a nation that put emphasis on wholesome qualities that were not dirty.

"Alfred!"

Yup, that was one cute puppy. No doubt about it.

"Oh… my… God…"

He wondered if he could find a little spotted puppy like that.

"You have GOT to be kidding me!"

Whaley and Tony would adore it!

"You're going on four hundred year's old, for Christ's sake!"

He could teach it all sorts of tricks. He loved it when a dog would shake hands with him. It would definitely be the first trick he taught it.

"Fucking look at me, you idiot!"

Oh lord, why was this happening today, of all days? One of his best kept secrets had been uncovered by his former guardian, of all people! Could things get any worse?

"So help me Alfred, if you do not pay attention to me, I'll snatch Nantucket right off your daft head!" He gave the ahoge another sharp tug.

His defenses up, he suddenly faced Arthur, with a look that was borderline pathetic, yet homicidal. "So, what if I am?! What the fuck does it matter if I've never had sex before!" He stopped there. He had been expecting Arthur to laugh at him, and tease him mercilessly. Instead though, he was met with a sympathetic smile, and a peculiar glint in his friend's eye.

"Then it looks as though we have a busy weekend ahead of us."

Alfred eyed the limey with suspicion. "What do you mean, a busy weekend?"

Arthur's smile grew in wattage, that twinkle sparkling brighter. He began petting his hair again. "Why, we're going to have you bedded properly, poppet. What else would I mean?"

"No."

Said Brit chuckled. "Now now, there's no need to be shy about it."

"I said no."

"You'll love it, trust me! Maybe you'll finally grow up a little, and show some maturity." Arthur was already planning how this would go. He would need to contact Francis, for starters.

"Arthur, I'm not doing this."

A hand waved off the protest. "Shush love, I'm thinking right now." Matthew needed to be in on it to, for moral support.

"No! Hell no! I'm not doing it! And you can't make me!"

The boy's stubborn streak could be curved easily in this instance. And the wise old country had the perfect ammo. "Oh, so I suppose it's alright that your brother is already quite accomplished in the bedroom. Such a shame, that. I always thought you had to be one step ahead of him. But, if you insist on letting him win this, then so be it."

Perfect shot. He sat back and examined his nails, waiting for the information to sink in his dense brain. Any moment now…

Alfred gaped at England, a mix of shock and horror on his face. Shock that his sweet tempered brother had such a reputation, and horror that he was still a virgin while Mattie had done "the deed". The look on his face quickly changed to one of resigned acceptance, with a glint appearing in his own eye. But this glint was one of determination.

Meanwhile, Arthur studied him through his bangs, fighting back the smirk when he saw he had won the argument. Three… two… one…

"Fine, goddammit! I'll do it! But only because I have to beat out Mattie! I mean, seriously, how can I show my face to the world if Canada had screwed more people than I have?! That's unacceptable!"

Nodding, Arthur eased his former charge's head from his lap and stood up, feeling quite satisfied with himself. He may not be the stupid git's guardian anymore, but America was still a child in more ways than one. And he saw it as his job to mend this situation.

"Then we have things to do, and only a short time to do them in. Come, let's go make a pot of tea, and I'll make a few calls. We'll make a weekend to never forget, I promise!"

With that, Arthur strolled out of the living room towards the kitchen, beckoning for Alfred to follow with another flick of his hand. The nation stood as well and followed with reluctance, a voice in his head screaming that he would come to regret this decision. Why had he let Arthur talk him into this?!


	2. Calling in the Experts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! IT IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA AND STUDIO DEEN. I MAKE NO MONEY FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!

Matthew Williams, or Canada, whichever you prefer, was someone who could be looked over with ease. He rarely spoke up, and was practically invisible to most people. Only his brother and parental figures seemed to notice him. But, in the past few years, he had grown tired of people ignoring him. So, he had set out to make a name for himself. And for the most part, he had succeeded. But he sometimes wondered if he had made the wrong impression. This is what he was thinking the morning of that fateful day, as he laid next to his bed partner, enjoying the aches that had resulted from certain activities the night before.

"Hey, Birdie… you awake yet?"

A murmur was the only response to the question.

"Heeey… wake up! The awesome me wants some attention before I have to go back to my home."

Rolling over so he could properly see his bed partner, Matthew blinked up at the one who was sitting up and reaching for the lamp beside the bed. A grin slowly spread across his face. God, what a night! Between the two of them, they had came at least 5 times that he could remember.

"Oh, really? And just what kind of attention is it that you want, eh?"

Finally managing to turn the light on, a familiar "kesesesesese" accompanied the crimson-eyed gaze of the awesome one, known as Prussia to some, and as Gilbert to others. "I think you know the answer to that, birdie. Or do I need to remind you?"

With a shake of his head, Matthew sat up in bed, brushing his hair out of his eyes. After a few fumbles, he located his glasses and slid them on, and turned to see the now-clear view of his lover.

"No reminders, please. My ass is still throbbing from the pummeling you gave it last night. I don't think I can go another round." This was said affectionately, of course. Matthew figured he loved the albino to an extent, although whether or not it was hardcore love was left to be discovered.

Gilbert pouted. Damn! He had been looking forward to a bit of early morning play in the shower. But, then again, things had reached a point that could be considered violent. "Alright then, I'll leave you be. I need to hurry anyway if I'm to catch my flight back home in time." Tossing the bedclothes aside, he jumped out of his warm cocoon and stretched thoroughly. His spine crackled in protest, but it still felt wonderful.

Matthew nodded, and reluctantly left his cozy spot as well, locating his sleep pants and pulling them on. "I'll go make a quick breakfast for you, okay?"

"Sounds good! I'll only be a few minutes." With that, the Prussian headed into the en-suite bathroom.

Chuckling, the Canadian made his way downstairs, giving Kumajiro a good morning pat to the head as he entered the kitchen. He fixed the coffee pot to brewing, and then made good time in cooking up a breakfast of eggs, French toast, and bacon. He had just sat Gilbert's plate on the table when he burst through the doorway, singing a lively German tune off key.

"Hey, looks good! " He sat down at the table and went to work on his food. "Why are you so good to me, Mattie? I mean, you would think that I stood a chance of occupying your bed permanently."

Setting a cup of black coffee next to his elbow, Matthew sat down in front of his own plate, but only picked at what was there. "It's like I said before. I want to keep my options open for the time being. Maybe one day I'll settle on someone, but until then…" Here he threw a piece of bacon at the other, who caught it skillfully in his mouth. "… Until then, I'm content with the way things are now. But, I will tell you this much." He tossed another piece of bacon, which was caught neatly like the first. "You definitely have a good chance of claiming me for good."

Gilbert's eyes lit up at that statement. Fuck yes, he knew it! "Kesesesese, you can't resist all this awesome, can you? Don't deny it! You love me."

"Don't go getting the big head over it. I'm still undecided."

A cheeky grin was the response as the last of Gilbert's breakfast was crammed in his mouth. Carrying his plate to the sink, he washed his dishes and put them away. Looking at the clock over the stove, he swore to himself, and rushed out of the kitchen, pausing only to plant a slightly greasy kiss to his lover's cheek.

"Ah, shit! I'm behind schedule! Want to take me to the airport, or should I call a taxi?"

"I'll call for you. Go and get your things together. I need to stay at home and work some." Matthew made the phone call, and in only a matter of time, the two had parted ways with the promise of meeting up again in the following weeks.

Sighing to himself, Matthew closed the door and looked across the sprawling den that made up almost half of the downstairs. Even if he did have Kumajiro to keep him company, sometimes it got to feeling quite lonely.

He made his way to his home office, and started on the stack of papers and files that had to be signed and checked over.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It seemed like it had been only minutes, when in fact it had been hours, when his phone rang. Giving the device a disgusted look, he sat down the budget sheet he had been reading over to pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Matthew, my dear boy! How are you doing today?"

He groaned internally. It was Arthur, and he sounded like he was in a good mood. This usually meant something was up.

"Uhm, I'm doing good. Kind of busy at the moment." He decided to get down to the point. That stack wasn't looking too good at that time. "Is something up? You seem… unusually cheerful today."

"Oh, if you only knew what I knew!" Arthur's voice was full of glee. That statement was followed by a series of muffled sounds that didn't sound too happy. They also sounded like they had come from his brother.

Oh, goody.

"Well, could it wait until tomorrow? I have a lot of work to do…"

"Ah, to hell with your bloody paperwork! We have things to do, love. Serious things!"

Double goody.

He rolled his eyes. "Like what, exactly? My work is serious too, you know."

On the other end, Arthur was holding Alfred off with a well-placed foot to his neck, having to hold him at bay else the phone be snatched from him. Vibrant blue eyes gazed up at him from the floor, pleading with him not to spill the beans. Heh, like that was ever going to happen. The excited country had a juicy bit he planned on exploiting to its fullest.

"Matthew, did you know that your brother was a virgin?"

Silence met his response.

Matthew had pulled the receiver back from his ear, giving it an incredulous look. Had he heard what he thought he had just heard? Putting it back to his ear cautiously, he decided that he needed to hear it again.

"Uhm, I think I might have misunderstood you. Would you mind repeating that for me?"

"You're brother is a virgin!"

Okay, he heard him clearly that time. But he was inclined not to believe him. His brother was America, for fuck's sake! How the hell did America, of all countries, get away with still having his cherry?

"I don't believe you."

Arthur chuckled, gazing down at the tearful face of the one in question and giving him a cheery grin. "Oh, but it's true! And the worst part of all is that he doesn't want to lose it!" 'Come on.. Take the bait… you know you want in on this…'

"And just why is that something to be so happy about?" Matthew had his suspicions about the elder nation's good humor over the situation. Shouldn't he be feeling sorry for him? He sure as hell did.

A smirk lit upon the Brit's face. "Because this gives us an excuse to take a whole weekend off so we can get the stupid git laid. What do you say?"

Ahh… that was it. An excuse to slack off a couple of days.

Not that Matthew didn't blame him. It would be so nice to get out and do something for a change other than the mountains of work he always had to do. Ottawa was nice, but damn, it got old after awhile. "Okay, let's say I decide to join you on this quest. Who else is going to be involved?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could get the frog..."

"Arthur…"

"Well, this IS his department, isn't it? He'd break his neck to get over here to help out!"

"That isn't what I was getting at." God, Matthew despised it when his adopted fathers got together. All they would do is stand around and bicker non-stop! But, England did have a point. Francis would be the perfect choice for this little endeavor.

"I agree, we should have him join us. If nothing else, he can help us pick up someone for Alfred."

It sounded as though Arthur was jumping with joy from the other side. "So that means you're in?"

Matthew sighed. As much as it pained him to admit, his brother did need his help. Alfred was as clueless as they come. He'd probably try to stick his dick in the wrong hole, or something like that.

Although how he would manage to do so would be a mystery, but this was Alfred. He made the impossible, possible.

"Yeah, I'm in. Where do you want to meet up?"

Arthur punched the air in victory, finally releasing his captive from the floor; the latter's face turning an odd shade of blue by that point that went pretty nice with his eyes. "Come on down to Alfred's place. This will be our base of operations for now, unless we have to move to where it would be more convenient."

"Alright, I'll be there by this evening."

"Excellent. See you then."

They hung up, leaving Matthew with a lot to digest. He sat back in his chair, staring out the window at the Maple trees lining his property. He wondered if perhaps he should have said no, and stayed out of the whole mess. But then again, it really could be fun. He wasn't above a little debauchery.

Stretching to ease his stiff muscles from sitting in one place for so long, he stood and made his way to his room. He needed to pack, since it looked as though he would be away for a while.

An hour later, and he was headed towards the border with thoughts of the days to come in the forefront of his mind.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

France was quite proud of his track record. Over the course of his existence, he figured he had managed to bed at least four thousand people, female and male. As far as sex was concerned, pleasure was pleasure, and it could be obtained from either gender. He was an unbiased lover of all, willing to explore even the most oddest of kinks. Most he enjoyed. A few he avoided unless that was how things were going that moment.

So it was with great joy and anticipation that he accepted his long-time rival's invitation to arrange Alfred's deflowering. As he carefully sorted and organized his luggage for his trip, he thought over the phone call he had received only thirty minutes before. Since he was on vacation, he had been enjoying his time off with a bottle of fine wine, a romance novel, and the tranquility of his Parisian flat. He had just reached the good part when the phone rang. A lazy hand had reached out and groped for the receiver, finding it on the fourth ring.

"Hello? This is Francis~ How may I service you today? Hon hon hon…"

"Frog."

"Angleterre! What a nice surprise. A call from you was the last thing I was expecting. How is big brother's favorite country doing?"

Arthur growled from his end. "Can it! I'm calling you on a matter of upmost urgency. And as much as I hate to admit it, you are the most qualified to take on this endeavor. Can you get away for the weekend?"

Francis sat up, his interest piqued. "Ah, but of course I can! I am on vacation, so I am free and at your bidding."

"Perfect! Pack your things, and head to the airport. I need you here at Alfred's house as soon as possible." A sob was heard through the line, the sound originating from his favorite American.

"Oh? And what is so pressing that you would need my assistance? Wait… you didn't get something stuck in Amerique's …"

"NO!" There was a pause. "Although, if things work out the way I wish them to, there will be something up there by the weekend."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Now he was VERY interested in the situation. What was going on that would require him to go and help with sticking things in the young blonde? Ah, could it be?!

"Well, you have called on the right one, Angleterre! I must say, I feel so honored that you would come to big brother for advice on l'amore. Although, I was beginning to wonder if you two would ever decide to go to bed with each other." He was so excited for them! The sexual tension between the two was visible to even the dumbest of individuals. "We will have you two rolling the sheets in no time~"

On the other end, Arthur turned five different shades of red, his ears threatening to burn off of his head any moment. "I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE TWO OF US DOING IT, YOU STUPID BASTARD! "

Francis rolled his eyes, and waved away the protests. "Oh please Angleterre, you cannot deny the attraction between the two of you. If it isn't going to be you two immediately, it will be before the weekend is over, hon hon hon~"

This time the sounds from the receiver made him jerk it away from his ear. My God, Arthur could scream loud enough for even Russia to hear!

"Frog, for the love of the queen, just get your wine-soaked arse over here! I'll explain more when you arrive. Till then."

A click signaled the line being cut. Arching an eyebrow, Francis sighed and hung up the phone, taking a moment to absorb the conversation.

Well, it certainly sounded like his vacation had made a turn for the better. There was no time to waste! Marking his spot in his book, polishing off his half-full glass of Merlot, and putting the rest back into the refrigerator, he rushed to his room to get ready for the flight and stay at the American's place.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Reviews give the authoress motivation to continue, so do so if you have a mind to please ^^


	3. A Captain and His Crew plus 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! IT IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA, AND STUDIO DEEN. I MAKE NO MONEY FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!

*Later that evening…*

After Matthew and Francis had arrived, Arthur had filled them in on the basics of what was going on. And even though Matthew had already been told most of it, he still wanted to hear it again.

He was still in denial

Francis, on the other hand, had acted as though Christmas had come early. It had taken both Arthur and Matthew to restrain the eager Frenchman. Upon hearing that America was a virgin, he had tried to relieve him of it right then and there.

He had been pacified only when Arthur assured him that he would get some action during the weekend, if what he had in mind panned out. But NOT from Alfred.

Now the four of them were sitting in the kitchen, taking care of the pressing matter of eating seeing as all four of them hadn't had a bite all day. Alfred hadn't eaten due to his own planning to rid the country of the one known as Presley. The other three had been thinking of other things since breakfast, and had forgotten lunch. So, it was food first, plan second. But Alfred wasn't in a mood to eat, for once.

'God, why me? Can't these guys find another hobby besides my sex life? Or lack of one.'

Blue eyes studied the other three that were sitting at the kitchen table with him. For as long as he could remember, any family meetings that the four would have (if you considered them a family that is) always took place in the kitchen. It had been the communal hub for the various people that had lived in the house over the years. Most meals were eaten there. When he had been a child, it had been where Arthur would patch up his and Matthew's various scrapes and cuts from roughhousing. If there was a conflict among them, this is where they would head to find a solution. To Alfred, it was the most comfortable spot in the entire house… the one place he felt the most at home in.

Over the years, there had been many add-ons and renovations completed to keep the structure in date with the times, but the kitchen had always been in the same place. And it was the one room out of all of the ones that were in the house that was the least unchanged. It still had the same cabinets that had been painted, sanded down, and re-stained and varnished many times. The floor was the original oak tongue-and-groove that his guardian had demanded to be included in the design. The windows that flanked the back door, as well as the one over the sink, were the original plate glass. He had refused to change that glass out, opting to have a second window installed in front of them to protect the precious panes from outside damage. He had stuck to the original color scheme of light blues and rich, deep browns. The only notable changes to the room were, of course, the additions of modern appliances such as the gas stove that replaced the wood burning one nearly thirty years before.

But after this night, he didn't think he'd feel the same way about it ever again. What they were about to discuss; He, Arthur, Francis, and Matthew, was a subject he had absolutely no interest in, and was not comfortable with their decision to take away one of his most valued in-material possessions. Seriously, did it really matter if he had had sex yet or not? Was it THAT important? He had lived this long without it; he could continue doing so forever. At least that's how he saw it.

The other three didn't.

So here they were, about to plan out the taking of his innocence. Sitting and having their supper. Like there wasn't a care in the world. At that moment, he would give anything to be able to vanish into thin air.

He couldn't be that lucky.

Movement caught his attention, his gaze shifting to Arthur who was studying the hamburger like it was some strange creature from beyond.

"I just don't understand the appeal of this thing. I mean, it's not THAT bad, but still, there's much better than this to be had." Arthur took another hesitant bite, his features scrunched up like he was in pain.

Francis nodded in agreement. "Oui. I cannot see how this, of all the options for food out there, has become so popular. Ugh, hopefully it's just another silly American fad." He studied his own burger, opting for the fries instead, but still grimacing at the deep fried taste that invaded his taste buds.

"Well I think it tastes pretty good. A little strange, but still appealing."

The older European countries turned their gazes to Matthew, who was sitting there snacking on his own fries happily. Both of them shook their heads and rolled their eyes. But of course he would pick up some of Alfred's habits. They were practically twins.

Matthew just ignored them, used to the disapproval of his adoptive parents, and turned his attention to Alfred, who was picking at his meal with much less vigor. "What was the name of the restaurant this came from again?"

Alfred looked up after a moment, realizing he had been asked a question. "Huh? Oh, it's called McDonalds. It's rumored that they will eventually replace all the old car-hop drive-in restaurants. It's being franchised, like White Castle."

"Ah. It's something new every day, isn't it?" Finishing off his last fry, Matthew grabbed his glass and sipped at his lemonade. Americans and their stupid inventions and trends. It was enough to make him squirm in his seat. "I hate to say this, but I agree with Francis. This might be popular here in the U.S., but I don't see it ever branching out. It can't beat out a home cooked meal, or dinner in a nice restaurant." Francis gave the Canadian a reproachful look, while Arthur agreed as well, balling up his wrappers and going to throw the trash away.

"I can see where it would fit in as far as convenience goes, but not every country is living in such a fast-paced society as yours, poppet. I hope it dies down soon. I get the feeling this kind of meal isn't all that good for you." He came back to the table, offering to throw away the other's waste as well. Meanwhile, after handing over his mostly-uneaten food, Alfred continued his musings, a knot making itself known it the pit of his stomach. Any moment, and the conversation would turn to the reason for their gathering in his home.

"Well, to be honest, I really haven't had all that much time to do any real cooking recently, with the upcoming election and all. It's been either take-out, or throwing something in the Radarange (1). God knows I paid enough money for it, might as well use it."

Arthur cast the object in question a wary glance, the hulking appliance taking up what used to be the space for the china cabinet. He didn't trust it. It had to have negative effects on the food you cooked in it. "Are you SURE it's safe to use? I wouldn't cook in it, that's for sure."

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry! In fact, the only thing to worry about with it is the increase in the electric bill. Man, that thing really pulls on the juice!" His eyes met with three looks that said they were not impressed by the machine.

"How much did you pay for it again?" Francis had turned to look over it, the futuristic design catching his eye.

"Oh, something like thirteen hundred bucks, not counting delivery and installation."

Arthur choked on the sip of tea he had just taken. "Th-THIRTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS?!"

"Well, yeah! You gotta shell out the dough if you want to keep up with the latest technology, right?"

"I wouldn't bloody well spend THAT much!" Arthur wiped up his spilt tea with a napkin, giving the younger nation a glare. "You could pay off half on a new car with that kind of money. But, you never did have much sense, did you?"

"Hey! I'm not stupid, you know." Alfred crossed his arms, his lips bowed downwards in a frown.

Matthew and Francis snorted and spoke as one. "You could have fooled me."

Growling at the jabs being taken at his careless ways, he jumped up from the table, roughly shoving his chair back. "To hell with you guys! I can buy whatever the fuck I want, when I want it! I'm going upstairs. I've had enough of this crap for one night."

As he turned to storm out of the room, Arthur jumped out of his seat and caught him by a finger hooking in his belt loop. "Hold it! We have plans to make, and you are going to help. We need to know what your tastes are, in terms of potential matches."

"Aw, come on! Do we HAVE to do this?"

This time it was all three of the others speaking together. "YES!"

"Ugh, fine, fine… dammit." He sat down again, reclining back on his chair leaving two legs off the floor.

Arthur sat back down as well, clearing his throat to catch all of their attention. "Now, let's get started."

Francis and Matthew scooted closer to the table, the younger resting his chin on his hand while the older one picked up his wine glass to sip at. Arthur fixed them all with a look that was left over from his days of pirating. He was a captain at that moment, addressing his crew. And he acted like it too.

"As we are all aware, Alfred is at a crucial point in his development. His citizens are showing signs of change, a progressive movement that he needs to be in time with. One of these changes happens to be the dismissal of prudish values in exchange for exploring the area of one's sexuality."

He paused, looking around the table with one eye shut, the other piercing through the others, before continuing.

"Alfred, for all his good intentions, has managed up to this point to avoid involving himself in such ideals. But now that the people of this country are ready to move on from aforementioned values, he needs to move on as well. And that, gentlemen, is what we're gathered here for."

He paused for dramatic effect, having their undivided attention on his speech.

"We have a mission to perform, one that must be handled with care and precision. It will take careful planning, and perfectly executed timing. We must be diligent! We must be persistent! We must approach this with all our attention, sharp and focused, so that we may succeed. This weekend, our main goal is to divest Alfred of his chastity, and see to it that by Monday, he is well versed in the act of sex, and all its deliciously sordid details, on a personal AND physical level! Now, who's with me?"

There were two cheers of "Yes!"

And one howl of "No!"

The protest was ignored.

"Excellent! Now, we must first decide on where we will start the hunt for a bed partner. Next, we will discuss proper dress code. After that, the information he needs to start off on the right leg must be compiled and presented. And finally… heh heh… finally, we will decide on where the action shall take place."

Arthur added a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows to that last part, Francis' trademark "hon hon hon" accompanying it.

Matthew just grinned.

Alfred beat his head on the table, sobbing.

And so, the planning began in earnest.

First was the destination. And as much as Arthur and the others loved Virginia, it just didn't have what they were looking for. They needed to find someplace where there was fun, entertainment, and a lot of free-flowing alcohol. After almost an hour of discussion and skimming through the various magazines Alfred had laying around the house, they finally settled on Miami, Florida.

Miami, at that time, was a veritable hot bed for parties and clubbing. But what really caught their attention was an advertisement in an issue of the Saturday Evening Post. It was for a sweet deal called The Tropicana Special, offered by Cubana Airlines. Basically it was a package deal where they picked you up in Miami and flew you to Cuba. From the airport you would be shuttled to the Tropicana Club, where you spent the night drinking, dancing, and enjoying the various venues of entertainers.

After the party was over, you were flown back to Miami and shuttled to your hotel before sunrise. It was exactly what Arthur had had in mind, and his cohorts agreed with his choice. And with Alfred's honey blonde hair and baby blue eyes, along with that well-toned physique he sported, it would be no problem for him to pick up someone to take back to the hotel with him. He was, to put it bluntly, a hot ticket. Of course, the other three had plans as well. But their main focus was America the sexy at the moment, not their own plans. They settled on an Oceanside resort to stay at, as well as making calls to the national directory to help select the places they would eat at and visit while there.

With destinations and locations decided, they moved on to the next item on the agenda, clothes. There was an easy solution for that, though. With another call to the directory, they were connected to a tux rental place only a few blocks from their hotel, and made an appointment to come in for fitting. During this part of the planning it was decided that they would each have their own private rooms, taking care of where Alfred would get his shag on. That left the trip down south left to arrange, and bestowing literally centuries of sexual knowledge and advice on the now deeply depressed country. And with final arrangements made, it was finally time to school the young man on the birds and bees.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOO


	4. Giving the Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! IT IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA, AND STUDIO DEEN. I MAKE NO MONEY FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!

It was decided that they should have the conversation in the living room, since Alfred was already at his wit's end with them. So Arthur made the four a fresh pot of tea while the other three found comfortable spots in the other room. He prepared a tray, and brought it in where the others were. Sitting it down on the coffee table, he poured for all of them, his memory of how each of them took theirs permanently ingrained in his mind.

Francis liked his with three sugars, no milk.

Matthew liked his with two sugars, and a healthy splash of milk.

Alfred preferred his with five heaping spoons of sugar, and just a dab of milk. But Arthur refused to put that much sugar in the cup.

"Bloody hell, how about some tea with your sugar?! Git."

He gave them three spoons of sugar, and handed him the cup. Alfred pouted at the beverage, but took a sip anyway. Hey, he had a sweet tooth, and it needed to be satisfied! It wasn't his fault, honestly.

With the four blondes occupying chairs and the couch (Alfred had most of the couch), and their tea ready to drink, Francis decided to get the ball rolling. He turned to Alfred, clearing his throat for what was going to be a very long discussion.

"Now, Amerique, I am sure that you have heard the story of the birds and the bees, yes?"

Alfred's glare over the rim of his cup was the only answer the Frenchman received.

"Yes, I'm sure you have. But, just so we can be positive that you do, I'm going to refresh your memory."

Matthew bit his lip to hold back a laugh. If looks could kill, Francis would have been nuked by that point. Arthur had to fight back a grin of his own. This was a serious situation, and needed to be treated as such.

"Now, when two people love each other, like a man and a woman, they find a need to express the love they feel for each other in an intimate manner."

"Oh dear god nooo…" Alfred grabbed a throw pillow, and buried his face in it to hide the blush staining his cheeks. The other two snickered to themselves.

"So, they decide on a time and place to act on these desires with each other, and meet up. They make sure to discuss what they need to bring before hand, so they can make it as memorable as possible."

Arthur's hand paused, tea cup half way to his mouth. "Wait a minute, frog. What would they need other than themselves? I mean, this is a man and a woman you're talking about. Women make their own lubri-"

"Angleterre, please! THAT is the reason why I need to explain this to him. You British are so… so… RESERVED when it comes to sexual intercourse. I mean, seriously, there isn't an adventurous bone in your body. You burned yourself out centuries ago."

All Arthur could do was stare at him, his face blank. Oh, how he wanted to correct the wine-sucking bastard! If he only knew of the items he kept hidden under his bed.

Or in his dresser.

Or in his closet, bathroom, kitchen, basement, shed, home and government office… the point was, Francis didn't have a clue as to what he did in his spare time, and as tempted as he was to wipe that smug look off his face, he decided to keep it to himself. Let him have his moment.

Later, when this mission was completed, he'd make sure that he set the record straight.

With the smug look in place, and successfully shutting England up, he turned back to Alfred to continue. Alfred, in the meantime, was wondering about whether or not suffocating himself would kill him long enough for the weekend to pass. He let out a moan of displeasure as the elder nation resumed his speech.

"Anyway, after deciding on what accessories they will need, they meet up, and set the mood. This usually involves roses, wine, candles, and a little romantic music, depending on the individual's tastes. Now, when they are relaxed, and feeling the call of… hon hon hon, nature demanding release, they will begin the process that will eventually end with them in bed."

Matthew felt the need to interrupt this time. "Uh, isn't that a bit cliché?"

Three sets of eyes turned to rest on the young Canadian.

He gulped, noting that one pair of those eyes were sending a silent message that promised a painful death. The other two were just curious. Francis leaned back in his chair, and rested his hands on his crossed knees. "I am merely giving the ideal example, Matthieu. Surely you don't expect him to spend his first time somewhere unsavory?"

"No, papa, I am not!" Matthew had taken note of how Alfred was taking this whole mess, and it was triggering something in him that strove to protect his twin brother from the embarrassment. He looked at his brother, and smiled encouragingly. "I would like to point out, however, that it doesn't always go that way. You can have sex practically anywhere, at any time. It just depends on when the mood strikes, and what the situation is at that particular moment."

Francis waved him off. "No, we do not want it to be something so spontaneous! How is this to be a memory for him to cherish if he ends up losing his…"

"You know, perhaps we should leave it up to Alfred as to where and how he decides to do this. Did you ever think that he may have thought of a few ideas for when the time comes? Hell papa, if he wants to give it up in the backseat of his fucking car, then that is fine! But don't sit here and pressure him into a situation that he isn't comfortable with! You KNOW he despises anything that is too lovey-dovey."

As Matthew gave his speech, Francis had leaned back in his chair, a look of shock etched on his features. Since when did his sweet and gentle spoken charge speak to him, let alone anyone else, in such a manner?!

Arthur had been taken back as well by the harsh words. But he easily recognized the look in his eyes as that of one on the defensive. He had shown that same look to those seeking to hurt the ones he loved numerous times in the past. And to be honest, he found it quite endearing. He knew he had picked the right one to offer Alfred support.

Alfred, however, was gaping at his twin in a mix of awe and horror. "M-Mattie… dude, chill out!"

"NO! This whole thing is ridiculous! I'll admit, yes, you need to be boned in the worst way! As old as you are, you should have had at least a dozen lovers by now, if not more! But, I am NOT going to sit here, and let this plan be turned into a form of entertainment for either of these perverted bastards!"

"Oi! I am NOT a pervert, thank you very much!"

"MATTHIEU! For shame, speaking of me this way!"

Alfred busted out laughing. Holy crap, Mattie was serious! And for some reason, that made the knots in his stomach ease up. Knowing that his brother had his back gave him a boost of much-needed confidence. If he had his bro by his side, then he could do this shit! Probably enjoy the experience too.

Matthew grinned at his brother, shooting the older pair in the room a look that said no fucks were given on their behalf. His only interest was his brother, and not any over the top endeavors the two may have. "The point I'm trying to make is that when you feel you are ready this weekend, and you have found the one you're interested in, then you will know what to do. All you need to know are the mechanics. And even though I often have my doubts about you, I know you're not THAT stupid."

He paused there, and eyed his brother warily, recalling his thoughts from earlier that day. "You do know which hole to aim for, right?"

"No, I thought that it would know where to go on its own."

"Smartass."

Arthur sat his cup down on the coffee table, and stood. "Well then, if that is out of the way, I suppose we should get ready for bed. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Francis stood up, a scowl marking his features. "Now wait a minute! Why would you even bother to involve me if you are going to blow off anything I suggest?!"

The Brit thought about that for a moment. "Well, you may not get to plan out just how everything will go, but you ARE needed. He may have questions he's only comfortable asking you."

Francis turned to look at Alfred, who nodded and offered a weak smile. "He's right. I mean, Mattie's my brother and Arthur is… Arthur, but you are the oldest, so you would know more."

"B- But, if you are not going to take-"

"I never said that. Neither did Mattie. I will, however, keep it in mind, just in case things go in that direction."

Francis studied him, then finally nodded, accepting that much.

Matthew had collected the tea service, and taken it to the kitchen. As he rinsed out their cups, he thought about all that was going to happen over the next few days. As delighted as he was over is inclusion, and his brother's acceptance of his support and guidance, he couldn't help but feel as though something was going to come along and throw a kink in their plans. Things like this never worked out as intended, and as the clock ticked away, he was more and more sure that this weekend was going to be a failure of epic proportions.

He didn't know how right he was.

The next morning was an especially early one for Arthur. He had rested well, but his dreams had disturbed him. And as time eased by, he felt the edges of an oncoming storm heading their way. He had made some coffee, feeling like having a rare cup for the energy, and had decided to take it out on the front porch to watch the sun rise. In the distance, you could barely make out the ocean from where the house sat on a hill high above most of the countryside. A little further in, you could make out the small town that had once been a meager settlement in colonial times. It was a beautiful sight, only the patterns of woodland and ever-growing suburban sprawl changing it. He was content to stand by one of the columns that held up the porch roof. It made something in his heart lighter to see that they were the same ones that had been carved when the house was first constructed. God, how he had planned it out, room by room, every detail carefully plotted to assure it would last the ages. And it had. He hadn't the heart to destroy it during the colonial rebellion, and somehow it had survived being burned to the ground during the American Civil War, a true miracle since every other prominent property had been razed to the ground by angry soldiers from the Union. Maybe they had sensed it wasn't just another house, but the house of their countries embodiment. But he wouldn't question it. It wasn't proper to do so.

A smile lit up his face as he recalled a conversation he had had with a much younger Alfred centuries back, sitting right there on that very porch. A conversation that was, in fact, relevant to what they had planned, in a way.

~*time warp – colonial times*~

Arthur had a headache. He had spent all day cooped up inside, filling out various reports to send back to the king. Old George was a particular person, insistent that every possible bit of information was included, right down to what the average budget was for a family per week. Keeping all those facts and figures straight and in order took its toll on him, but until his young charge was old enough to do so himself, it was his job and he was going to do it right. Of course, that still didn't make it any easier. But he had had enough of the hot and humid air that permeated the rooms. So, he had called it a day, and had come outside to sit in his favorite rocking chair. It was pleasant to watch the light begin to slowly fade from the sky, an offshore breeze reaching inland to their location, making it all together a nice evening to be outdoors.

From somewhere to the right of the house came the sounds of bubbly laughter. That sound instantly triggered a grin from the usually stoic nation. It had been a hard transition from delinquent pirate king to proper gentleman, but it was one he took in stride. He had a major responsibility to care for, and he was determined to see it out right, without any mishap from himself or lack of attention to the young colony currently running about in the stable yard. He had made it clear where the child could play and not play without his supervision, and Alfred rarely disobeyed him. That made his grin even more prominent. Although the child had super-human strength, and a head as hard as rock, he was a good boy. His manners were in order, and he was a pure pleasure to be around. And even when his speech would slip into something that made him cringe at times, it was all bearable. Yes, this life had softened him. But there were times that he was put on the spot. He was about to be in one of those spots.

It all started when he noticed that the happy sounds had ceased. 'Hmm, I wonder what he's doing.'

Curious, he called out for him. "Alfred! Where are you, poppet?"

A few seconds later, a blur of blonde and white came around the side of the house, stopping so abruptly in front of him he could have swore he heard his shoes squeal on the cobblestone walkway. Eyes as big and blue as the sky above him gazed up at him from a face that was slightly sweaty and plenty dirty from a day of long play.

"I'm right here, Arthur! Is something wrong?"

He chuckled. "I was just wondering what you were up to. You were being too quiet. You didn't do anything wrong, did you?"

The small boy in front of him moved his head in the negative. "No sir, I was just watching the horses playing."

"Ah, I see. Well, carry on then. It will be getting dark soon, and it will be time to retire indoors."

"Okay!" Alfred turned to rush off, but paused mid-stride. He turned back to face Arthur, a crease in his brow indicating he was deep in thought.

"Arthur? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, love. You can ask me anything you want to."

The boy tilted his head a bit. "Arthur, do horses wrestle?"

"What? Well, I don't know. I mean, they'll roll around in the grass if they're feeling good. Or they will buck and run with each other. But wrestle? I've never seen them do so."

Alfred nodded slowly.

"What makes you ask that, poppet?"

"Well, when I was watching the horses, Charger looked like he was trying to wrestle with Rosie. But it didn't look like any kind of wrestling I've ever seen before."

Arthur arched an eyebrow. Charger was the horse he had brought with him from Britain. He was one of the finest stallions in his stables. Rosie had been given to Alfred by Arthur as a birthday present, or the day they celebrated as his birthday. It was really just the day he had first been discovered by Finland.

"I'm afraid I don't…" Then it dawned on him what Alfred had seen. He had been expecting the mare to go into season soon, and from the sounds of it had done so. And Charger had lucked out, apparently. "Ah, I see. Well, it's nothing to worry about. I'm sure they'll be fine. Now, go play while you still can." God, he did NOT want to go into this yet. Alfred was too young to know about certain facts of life.

"But what were they doing if they weren't wrestling?"

Nope. Not having this conversation.

"Really, love, just go back to what you were doing. It's nothing important."

"But I wanna know!"

Not doing this.

"Just forget about it, okay?"

"Englaaand! I wanna knoooow! Tell meeee, please!"

Fucking Christ on a ladder.

"It's 'want to', not 'wanna'. You really need to speak properly."

"Don't try to change the subject! That doesn't work on me anymore!"

Damn the little shit for being so observant! He sighed heavily as he gazed down at his colony. Wasn't there any way to avoid this?

"Look, all you need to know is that they were… uhm… uhh…"

He was at a loss for words. How did you explain sex to a practically 8-year old kid?! He thought fast. There was one way of doing this without going into all the gory details. Hopefully it would satisfy the curious brat before him.

"Why don't you wait until Francis comes for a visit and ask him? I'm sure he'd be able to explain it to you a lot better than I can. Can you wait that long?"

Alfred studied him. Now, he knew when his older brother was avoiding a particular thing. Because he would always tell him to ask France about it. Then, when he was filled in, he would report back what he had been told, which would then turn the situation into Arthur doing his best to kill the older nation for giving too many details on the matter. All he wanted to know was what the horses had been doing. Why was it so hard to explain? He didn't understand adults sometimes. They were so weird.

"Alright, I guess I can wait. Don't know why I have to though." He pouted, scuffing his shoe on the stone beneath him.

'Oh thank God! That's one bullet dodged.' Arthur smiled warmly. "How about I make it up to you with a batch of fresh cookies for dessert."

That adorable face lit up instantly, any thought to what the horses had been doing forgotten in the face of the tasty treat. "Yeah! That's sounds awesome!"

The two went inside to get to work on them, and the matter was dropped for the moment.

Until France came. And as Alfred predicted, the two nations duked it out once he had learned about the mating habits of animals in vivid detail.

England won.

~*time warp – present day*~

It seemed like a thousand years had passed since that day. And as Arthur studied the remaining drops of coffee in the bottom of his cup, the smile on his face was a sad one. Why had his little boy turned against him? Why had he grown up to be a hard-headed, narrow-minded git? Where did he go wrong?

'Well, at least we're making amends now. Guess I should be thankful for that.' Sighing, he made his way back inside, finding Francis in the kitchen looking bedraggled in only a thigh-high robe, hair messy and tangled about his face as he prepared himself a cup of brew heavy with cream. That robe made Arthur shudder with revulsion. The last thing he had wanted to see were those fur-covered legs bared to the world and his eyes.

"Ugh, can you please go put some clothes on?"

"But I am wearing clothes, Angleterre."

"I mean ACTUAL clothes, frog! Not that scrap of cloth you call a robe! No one needs to see all that body hair!"

"Hon hon hon, you know you like it. It is sexy, no?"

Francis ducked as a coffee cup sped past his head, the cup shattering upon impact with the wall.

"NOW!"

"I love you too, Angleterre'~."

Before Arthur could retaliate with the chair he had seized, the phone near the kitchen door rang. Pausing mid-swing, he turned to look at it with a perplexed expression.

"Now, who could be calling this early in the morning? It's not even 7 am!"

Shrugging, Francis moved to grab the receiver, taking the long way around the table to avoid the enraged one. Picking it up, he greeted the caller.

Meanwhile, the sounds of shuffling footsteps were heard as Matthew and Alfred made their way into the kitchen, both of them still half asleep.

"Oui. Oui. Are you sure it has to be today?"

Arthur listened in the best he could while directing the twins to chairs to sit in, and proceeding to pour them some coffee as well.

"Well, if you say so. But this is really bad timing! We had plans for today!"

As the boys sipped on the brown liquid, equally blissful looks on their faces, Arthur looked up and made a motion that asked what the problem was.

Francis waved him off for the moment, listening to the caller and nodding. "Oui. Alright then, we shall be there as soon as we can get ready and arrange transport."

He hung up the phone, and turned to the other occupants of the room. "Bad news. There has been an emergency meeting called. Egypt has decided to act on its threat, and took the Suez Canal." He pointed to Arthur, then Alfred. "We are needed at negotiations. They want Matthew there to help keep the situation in control."

The three all groaned. This was NOT how they wanted to spend their weekend! But it was their job, so they had to do it.

"Alright, let me go and get ready. You boys finish your coffee, and then get dressed. We need to leave as soon as possible." Arthur and Francis, his cup now forgotten, rushed out of the room to prepare for their flight. Matthew and Alfred exchanged glances. They already knew how things were going to turn out. And it wasn't going to be nice, either.

"Let's hope our weekend isn't ruined by this."

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	5. In Berlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! IT IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA, AND STUDIO DEEN. I MAKE NO MONEY FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!

"Angleterre, it is barely past noon. Isn't it a bit too early to be indulging in hard liquor?"

"Shut it, frog."

"Papa, why would they want me at this meeting? Since when does anyone pay any attention to me to begin with?"

"Ah, I think they want you there to help restrain the three of us in case we go after Egypt for seizing our territory. But I don't think it will be necessary, do you Matthieu?"

"Uhm…"

"Like he can really hold any of us back if we decided to jump that bastard and beat him bloody. HA! I've never heard such drivel." Arthur raised his glass in the air to flag the stewardess. "Madam, another please, and make it a double."

Alfred sat in his seat, gazing out at the blue of the sky and ocean below, keeping to himself. He had tuned out most of his brother's and friend's constant babble before they had boarded their flight. He rolled his eyes when the stewardess, named Anne, came and served England his drink, exchanging the full tumbler for the empty one. He then made a face when Arthur drank half of it in one go. God, scotch was nasty as all hell. How could he do that without puking?

"Angleterre! You will be drunk before we land! Please, show some restraint."

"Fuck off!"

"Guys, please, stop fighting! Hosers…"

The American sighed heavily, a dark cloud settling over him. The last place he wanted to be at was a damn meeting. Especially a meeting where these three would be watching him like a hawk to make sure he didn't try to run… again. And run he had, nearly breaking his leg tripping over a tree root as he tore through the woods by his house.

He had been making a bid for freedom, praying that the others would be too busy to notice his absence. Unfortunately Arthur and Matthew were quite observant, as well as sharing an ability to hear even the softest noise from a long distance. So they had known when he left the house on tiptoe. And they had given chase immediately. He had almost succeeded in escaping, too.

But he should have zigged instead of zagged.

They had drug him back after tying his hands and feet with his and Arthur's pajama tops, thrashing and screaming every cuss word and insult he could think of as they did. Francis had decided to wait on the front porch, and had laughed his ass off when they returned. After a severe tongue lashing from Arthur, a lot of teasing from Francis, and some much-needed comfort from his brother, he had been persuaded to go take his shower and get dressed for their trip. Since then they had flanked him wherever he went.

What he didn't understand was why he couldn't use his super strength against them to get out of this whole thing. He literally had a mind block about using it towards his "family" for any reason other than in fun. But where that block had come from was beyond him. There wasn't a thing to be done about it though, so he just had to suffer through until they were either satisfied, or grew bored with him.

Matthew was attempting to restrain the hand raising the glass to the Brit's lips. "Arthur! No more, okay? You'll be passed out at the conference table."

"Listen to him, Angleterre. We need your mind intact for this. We could have the beginnings of a war on our hands."

"All three of you are buzz kills, honestly! I can handle this and a lot more, alright? Now, stop harassing me and mind your own damn business." He shook Matthew's hand off his wrist, and took another healthy sip of his beloved alcohol.

Alfred looked over to Arthur, and pouted. "But I haven't said anything about you drowning yourself in booze!"

The elder nation gave the younger a pointed look. "You don't have to. After that hissy fit you threw, on top of your current attitude, you could fuck up a wet dream without even trying."

Shaking his head and returning his gaze to out beyond the wing of the plane, Alfred hoped he either went deaf, or fell asleep. Anything would be better than having to listen to those three all the way to Europe.

Matthew, on the other hand, was surprisingly happy with the turn of events. One, someone other than his family had remembered that he existed, and two, he had a plan.

As he had been getting ready earlier back in the states, a thought had occurred to him. Nations, although happy to comingle with their citizens, were often more than a bit uncomfortable with it. The older you were, the more awkward you felt. And this was a point of concern as far as their weekend plans went. No one had thought of the idea that maybe Alfred wouldn't want to fuck a normal human. Especially since the nations felt that their citizens were their children in a way.

So, this meeting had an upside to it. He planned on asking a few select nations to come along for the party. He also had plans to make this trip an extended one. A weekend wouldn't be enough to bring his brother out of his bubble. Hell, for all they knew, it could take years!

But another thought had occurred to him too. A question had been left unasked. A pretty important one, at that. Deciding that now was as good a time as ever to get it out of the way, he flicked his fingers at Alfred to get his attention. He was given an annoyed look.

"What is it, Mattie?"

"Boys or girls?"

Alfred blinked. "What?"

"Boys or girls? Which would you prefer?"

"…Huh?"

Matthew sighed. Of course he wouldn't understand the question.

"I'm asking you which you would rather have sex with. A guy or a girl?"

America just stared at him with a look that clearly showed that not only had he thought about it, but was caught off guard by the question.

The other two had been listening in, and grinned when they realized Alfred was clueless. Oh, now this promised to be interesting.

"Either one is okay, you know. As nations, we aren't tied to the standards and ethics of the human populace. We can have either one as a lover." Matthew patted his brother's knee, urging him to speak up.

Arthur toned down his grin enough to give his former colony an encouraging smile. "You know what you like, not us, so you need to speak up so we don't make a mistake when finding you a bed partner."

Alfred kept staring, his gaze shifting from one to the other, his expression carefully schooled to one of indifference. He had thought about this already, and it worried him that they might judge him on his preferences. Because, to be honest about it, he would much rather have sex with a man than a woman. Not that women didn't interest him, oh no. He just found that the male gender was more appealing, as well as more of a comfort zone for him.

Now, he didn't know for sure if he was gay or not. Being of a homosexual persuasion in that day and time was still considered quite a taboo. But knowing that two out of the three had voiced their support of his decision made his preference for the male gender more bearable. The fact that they might not approve his choice had kept him tossing and turning in bed the night before.

His eyes flicked to Francis, who was grinning still, and who chuckled at the conversation. "Amerique, mon cher, you are not going to be put on the spot for what you have a taste for. Not by us, anyway. And not by any of the others, either. Most, if not all the other nation representatives have a tendency to desire the same sex, if not both. This is the way things are with our kind. So, you can answer Canada's inquiry without fear of ridicule."

All three were alright with it. Oh, thank God for that! He heaved a sigh of relief, and relaxed visibly. Suddenly he was tired, very tired. "Thank you for that. I was worried, to be honest. Because I… I would rather it be a, you know, guy." He blushed then, and turned away from their gazes to study the various cloud formations at eye level.

"Poppet, look at me."

He cringed in his seat, and kept his eyes locked on the window.

"Alfred Jones, look at me, now."

There was a command in that softly spoken voice he couldn't ignore, had never been able to, that made him slowly focus his attention on Arthur. Arthur reached out, and tucked a bit of his hair behind his ears in a gesture that was meant to comfort. "We are your friends. We accept you as you are, just as you accept us for all of our eccentricities. Next time, say something, alright?"

Smiling for the first time since yesterday, Alfred nodded. Matthew smiled as well. Francis hon'd, and flagged down the stewardess known as Anne. "A round for all four of us please."

Two hours later, and they were in West Berlin where the meeting was to take place. The drive to their hotel had taken them by the remains of the former Nazi regime's government buildings, most of which were in utter ruin. They didn't speak as they passed them. It wasn't necessary. They all shared the same feeling of relief that Hitler and his followers were done in and gone, for the most part. No comments were wanted, or needed.

The hotel they were booked for was a small, but lavishly establishment with all the modern amenities they required, plus a few extras, such as room service, and very courteous help. The plan was that they would attend the meeting, stay the night, and then fly out to Florida the next morning. So, they had brought the stuff they would need for their trip south.

According to the note left by Ludwig, otherwise known as Germany, as soon as they were finished setting up their rooms they were to go to the location of the meeting. As they made their way there, attempts were made to keep the British nation calm. For the past few months there had been increased tensions between the British Empire, America, and Egypt as to the construction of the Aswan Dam. Now, with Egypt attempting to seize the canal from their control, Arthur was in a steady fret.

The canal was in the middle of growing hostilities between the two countries. And after an impassioned speech was made by a French veteran the month before against Nasser, the leader of the country, things had only grown worse. In fact, he wasn't surprised by the attempt. But it had to be stopped. That canal was a vital waterway for British oil supplies.

The meeting was only a few hours long, with tensions running high with opposing political parties all gathered around the table. The soviet nation of Russia, or Ivan, had only made things worse with many well-placed remarks made at American involvement in the canal's construction and funding, including one that indicated that America was only in it for the purpose of showing off its money, to keep British and French interests on his side.

It had taken nearly ten minutes before Alfred could be convinced not to strangle him. But now with the meeting over, they had returned to their hotel. Francis decided to take a walk around and tour the reconstruction efforts. Matthew claimed he had a bit of business to attend to, and shut himself up in his and Alfred's room. That left Alfred either out wandering, or crammed up Arthur's ass.

He chose the latter.

"Heeey, I'm hungry!" Blue eyes peeked at Arthur over the edge of the bed.

The older nation gazed downward at those eyes, rolled his own, and went back to reading. "Well then, go and find something."

"But I don't wanna go by myself."

He sighed. "You're a big boy, you'll manage."

There was silence, and then a finger began to poke the bottom of his foot, bare except for his socks. "Please please please please…"

Arthur threw a pillow at him. "I said no, Alfred! Now, either find something to do to keep quiet, or go aggravate someone else!"

"Meanie." This was followed by more grumbles as the American made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed, using it as a back support as he stretched his legs out on the floor. "Why can't you humor me on this? It will only take a few minutes, honest!"

"Because, not only is it too early to be eating anything, I plan on ordering room service later." Arthur peeked over his novel at him. "Why don't you just call them?"

"I don't wanna eat weird German food!"

"Oh, for the love of God." The book was tossed aside in exasperation. "You're not going to give me any peace, are you?"

"Nope!"

"Well, then why don't we order a tea service? I could use a cup, and it usually comes with some biscuits to nibble on." He reached over and grabbed the telephone and dialed the hotel kitchen before the other could protest.

Alfred resumed peeking over the bed, watching Arthur like a hawk. Ever since the end of the Second World War, their relationship had vastly improved. Even if Arthur had began viewing him more as a child than the full grown man he was, and treating him as such, Alfred could only claim to enjoy the attention. So, perhaps in a way he was still child.

Of course, this was a contradiction to some of the more adult feelings Alfred had developed for his former caretaker over the years. Even as a child he had known he felt differently about his "big brother" than one would normally. And as he had grown older and observed the world around him, and the people in it, he had come to realize that he might love him more than just as a good friend.

But that didn't mean he was going to act on the impulses he felt to proclaim his love for the other, oh no. He was content with being friend zoned for the time being.

Hanging up the phone, Arthur turned back to the other, and arched an eyebrow at the eyes peeking at him. Honestly, one would think the boy would sit in a chair instead of sprawling on the floor like an idiot. "Can't you sit somewhere else? There are plenty of places to pick from, you know."

Alfred pouted. "I like it here. Besides, you talk to me more when I'm doing something silly." He stretched his arms out over the bedspread, and rested his chin on the edge so the displeasure could be clearly seen on his face.

The eyebrow arched higher. "You know, if you keep that lip poked out like that, you're going to trip over it." Arthur put his book away in the table beside the bed, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get any reading done with the git in the room. "At least get on the bed, my god! It's bad manners to sprawl out all about the place."

The other's face brightened up immediately, a silly grin stretching across his face. He couldn't believe his luck! He was quick to scramble up the mattress, and settled on the pillows beside Arthur. Stretching happily, he crossed his arms behind his head and snuggled down to get comfortable. He turned and flashed his grin at England.

England, in return, snorted and made himself more comfortable on his own side of the bed, preparing himself for an onslaught of constant babble courtesy of the young nation next to him.

Meanwhile, Canada was busy speaking on the phone with Arthur's boss, confirming their plans to take an extended vacation. So far, he had called his own boss, as well as Francis'. Everyone had agreed to let their representatives have some extra time to party in Miami. With growing tensions between various nations around the world, they could be in for a rough few years and probably wouldn't get another chance like it for awhile.

"… Yes sir, he should be back by next Friday at the latest."

There was the muted sound of the Prime Minister, a Sir Anthony Eden, speaking from the receiver.

"Alright then. Yes sir, you have a nice weekend too. Bye-bye."

He hung the phone up with a breath of relief. Although Sir Eden was known for being an easy going guy, you never knew what mood the bosses would be in. That left only one person to call, his brother boss, President Eisenhower. Picking up his address book, he flipped through the pages and found the number to the White House. He dialed and waited patiently. On the third ring the operator answered.

"White House Operator switch board. How may I help you?"

"Yes, this is Matthew Williams, the nation of Canada, and I need to speak to the president please." He made a face at the smacking coming from the other side, probably from the woman chewing gum. How rude!

"I'm sorry, but the president isn't in his office at the moment. Could I direct your call to Vice President Nixon?"

Matthew gave a silent cheer, fist pumping the air. What luck! "Yes, that will be fine, thank you."

"One moment please…"

If there was one person who would be more than happy to see his brother away from the office and out of their hair, it would definitely be Nixon. Matthew had met them man a few times in the past. And although he gave off a suspicious air, he was a capable man who fit his office to a T.

A few moments later the sound of the line being picked up was heard, and a nasally voice came through. "This is Nixon, what's the problem?"

Canada held back a snort at the deadpan voice. "Hello Mr. Nixon, this is Canada. Uhm, I was wondering if…"

"If it involves that asshat of a brother of yours being gone for any longer than he already has been, the answer is yes."

He had to laugh at that. "Well, that answers my question, sir. Thank you!"

"Yeah, whatever. Make sure to lose him, wherever it is you're taking him."

Matthew laughed harder. "Yes sir, I'll do my best."

"Good. Have fun." With that, a click announced the end of the call. Hanging the phone up again, the blonde grinned. The guy was suspicious, but you had to love his attitude.

With his first task out of the way, he put his book back in his luggage and headed for Arthur's room, where he was sure to find his brother pestering the poor nation.

~*with France, during what happens at the hotel*~

"Hon hon hon~ Are you sure you wouldn't wish to accompany me back to my hotel room? I could show you my bratwurst?"

SLAP!

Francis sighed, rubbing his burning cheek as the young girl he had been flirting with stalked away cursing in German. What did it take to get one of these women to cave to his charms? He was French! Wasn't that enough? And this particular German girl had been the petite, brunette type too….

Shrugging, the nation continued to walk down the side street he was on, taking in the fresh, new look of the various houses and businesses that had been rebuilt. You had to give these people credit for their industriousness. The architecture was severe, but quite lovely. He loved seeing the positive attitudes of the workers as they went about their various tasks. No wonder Germany could still hold his head high, even after the war and its horrors.

He passed by a café that was situated on a corner, pausing to make sure his way was clear before crossing the street. A moment later, someone came out in a rush, calling out to him.

"Hey, francy-pants! Wait for the awesomeness!"

France groaned, not wanting to acknowledge the silver haired nation that was fast approaching. But he was not one to be rude, so once he made it to the curb on the opposite side of the street; he turned to greet the other. "Hello, Gilbert! Fancy meeting you here~ How are you?"

Gilbert, coming up to the other with a snarky grin on his face, gave the Frenchman a pat on the back. "Doing well, my friend. In fact, you are just the man I wanted to see..."


	6. Two Trios

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT OWN HETALIA! IT IS THE PROPERTY OF HIDEKAZ-SAMA, AND STUDIO DEEN. I MAKE NO MONEY FROM THIS WORK OF FICTION. THIS IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY!

*Later on, in a nearby bar*

Francis was beginning to have trouble focusing on his companion, who was rattling on about the latest bit of news concerning his brother and north Italy. He had promised himself that he would only drink a couple glasses of wine, but ended up downing a whole bottle within an hour of his and Gilbert's arrival. At the moment he was about half way through the second one. Of course, the amount of wine he had consumed didn't normally affect him so strongly, but the three shots of Jagermeister the other had forced on him had mixed with his preferred spirits to make him feel quite lightheaded, a light buzzing somewhere in the back of his ears.

"So, the awesome me, being awesome, agreed to leave the house for the day so the two love birds could have some alone time." Gilbert took a long drink of his beer, slamming the empty mug on the bar and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I mean, really, you would think Ludwig would have been more assertive in asking me for some private time with his lover boy, not stammering and blushing like a lovesick school girl."

"Yes, well you're brother isn't quite so good about expressing himself, is he?" Propping his chin on his wrist, the nation of love sighed deeply. "It is truly a beautiful thing, is it not? Those two, flirting about each other with such timid actions and words. It makes my heart ache for them."

The other made a sound like he was retching, and signaled the bartender to fill his mug once again. "Please, they need to let loose and act more on their baser instincts! If they would go ahead and fuck, they would get over all that mushy crap."

Francis shook his head slowly, motioning to the man serving them to refill his glass as well. "Ah, but those two, it would not be so simple for them to just go with what their hearts tell them. This way is better, I would think."

"Ja, ja, whatever you say." Wiping the ring left by the sweating mug off the counter with a napkin, Gilbert waved off Francis' reasoning. "My way is much more interesting." Turning a bit, he faced the other and grinned. "So, since we're on the subject of people getting laid, how are you and Mr. Prissy Pants getting along? You strike out with him yet again?"

"Please, do not get me started on that subject! It is too much to think about at the moment." Francis took a sip of the dark red liquid in his glass, savoring the heady flavor that flooded his mouth and assaulted his taste buds. He truly appreciated a good vintage of wine. "With all this mess about getting poor Amerique laid, I have barely had time to think about pursuing my lovely Angleterre."

"What?" Gilbert perked up a bit, studying Francis with a curious expression. "Why would you be worried about that dumbass getting laid?"

Francis realized he had let what was supposed to be private and secret information slip past his lips, but at that particular moment his mind was clouded by drink. Sadly, it did not occur to him to divert the subject elsewhere.

"Because, the poor boy has to be freed from his self-imposed chastity!"

Red eyes widened, the owner of them sitting up straighter. "What are you saying, France? You don't mean…?"

The other sighed dramatically, and pressed a hand to his heart in a show of dramatic angst. "Oui, it is true. Our beloved Amerique is untouched, a pure white rose in a garden filled with the deep hues of passionate red!"

Gilbert's jaw dropped. No, there was no fucking way that AMERICA, a world superpower, had managed to live this long without having at least had a blowjob. Or given one, whichever. "I don't believe it. I refuse to believe it! He's too damn good looking to not have attracted someone's attention. Look at the kid!"

"I know! I didn't want to believe it myself at first, but after Angleterre called to fill me in on the situation, I caught the first plane to Alfred's house to be of assistance."

Pale hands waved frantically at him, making him pause in his explanation. "Hold that thought, Francy-pants. I need to make a call. First I have to use the can, but then a call!"

"Oh, who are you going to call?"

"Why, Antonio, of course! He needs to hear this too." Gilbert slid off his stool, and made to rush off. "Stay there! I'll be right back."

As the albino rushed to the bathroom, once more the thought that he shouldn't have shared this tidbit of gossip crossed his mind. And once again, the wine chased it away to replace it other ones.

*at the hotel*

After joining Arthur and Alfred, Matthew had briefed them on what he had done in the other room, earning him words of praise from the elder nation, and a scowl from his brother.

"C'mon Mattie! Damn, does this have to be drug out any more than what it already is?"

Matthew rolled his eyes, and threw a bit of his cookie at him. "Hush up. This will probably take longer than a couple of days. Besides, Mr. Nixon seemed eager to have you out of his hair for awhile."

"Ugh, whatever." Alfred pouted when Arthur plucked the piece of cookie out of his fingers before he could toss it back at him. "I mean, really, will it be the end of the world if I don't find someone to… you know… do it with?"

The simultaneous response of "Yes!" from the other two made him pout even more, his cheeks puffing up in childish indignation. "Screw you guys, seriously!"

Arthur rolled his eyes at the display, and took a sip of his tea. "Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, poppet. I'd rather not have the job of deflowering you, and your brother probably wouldn't, either." Pausing a moment, he peered over the rim of his cup at the Canadian sitting cross-legged between them, positioned near their knees and facing them. "Do you want the job? Or do you want to find another to do it?"

"No! That's just… ugh, gross! He's my brother, for Maple's sake!"

He shrugged and continued to drink his tea. "You never know."

The twin looks of horror and disgust were pointedly ignored. He could remember a different time, long before the boys had been born, when such things between siblings were a more common occurrence than one would think.

Alfred sat his cup on the bedside table and stretched. "Okay, this conversation is getting to be too uncomfortable for my tastes. And I need a nap." He settled down on the pillows beneath him and threw an arm across his eyes. "Wake me up when you have it all figured out, okay?"

"Hey! You're not seriously thinking about sleeping here, are you?" The Brit poked at the American who was already dozing off.

"I'll move… in a bit… gonna rest my eyes a few, 'k?"

Matthew giggled, and Arthur huffed. "Well, I guess he's out for the count." Matthew nodded, and patted his brother's leg.

"Let him sleep awhile. Maybe his mood will improve with some rest." Finding his cup empty, he held it out to Arthur. "More, please?"

Arthur smiled, and went about preparing him more tea. If only some of him would rub off on the other.

*back at the bar*

Francis and Gilbert, by this point in time, were completely wasted. That's how Spain, or Antonio, found them, slumped over the bar and attempting to sing a song that was centuries old, in an ancient tongue that had the bartender eyeing them warily. Shaking his head, he walked up to his friends and clapped both of them on the shoulder, earning two very happy and drunken greetings.

"Hey, there he is! Pull up a chair, and have a drink with us!"

"Yes, do! The wine is quite exquisite~"

Seeing the glare the man serving them leveled in their direction helped make up his mind about the invitation. "Why don't we go and have a drink elsewhere amigos. Then you can tell me all about this wonderful secret Gilbert was going on about over the telephone." He helped them both to their feet, pulling out the money to pay their tab, as well as a generous tip to thank the poor bartender for his troubles. With a hand on their backs, he escorted them outside to his waiting car. Once they were inside, and belts fastened to keep them from sliding off their seats, he pulled away from the curb and into the late evening traffic.

"So, what's this I hear about a weekend party? And where is my invitation?"

Gilbert, who was sprawling in the back seat at an awkward angle (his seat belt kept him from doing so properly), snickered. "Hey, France, tell him. You're going to get a kick out of this, Anty."

Francis nodded slowly, the world swimming and dipping in his field of vision. "Oui, you'll just die when I tell you what has been revealed."

After getting the name of Francis' hotel, and the directions from Gilbert, Antonio sat back and made his way towards their destination while he was filled in on Alfred's state of purity. Afterwards, he took a few minutes to let the information settle in on his brain. Then he busted out laughing.

"I do believe you are trying to play a prank on me, my friend. How in the hell did he manage to stay a virgin this long?" Honestly, it sounded like a line of utter bullshit to him.

Francis rolled his head to stare at him with glazed eyes, an eyebrow arched in a haughty manner. "Have I ever told you a lie, Antonio?"

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"When it comes to something like THIS, Antonio!"

Spain hummed, thinking for a moment. No, if there was one thing the blonde beside him didn't do, it was skimp out on details of a sexually deviant nature. Not that this was sexually deviant. But imagining the cheery blue-eyed boy, with his beautiful looks and winning personality, as a virgin was still pretty damn hard to see, even for him.

"Are you sure about this, you guys?"

Gilbert nodded, although he only had information second-hand via Francis. "It makes sense. He does come from a Puritan background. I can see it being possible, even if he is drop-dead gorgeous and should have been with someone by now."

"I see…" Antonio turned at an intersection and drove down the street that led to the hotel. "Well, if you guys are planning to get him some hot action over the weekend, I want in on it."

Gilbert raised his hand. "I second that motion, your honor!"

The Frenchman moaned softly, trying to make his eyes stop spinning in his head. "You'll have to ask Angleterre and Matthieu first. I have no problem with it, but they might."

Pulling off into a side parking lot next to the hotel, Spain nodded as he parked and pulled the keys from the ignition. "Well then, I will ask him, at once!"

The trio made their way inside and upstairs, other guests of the hotel either laughing to themselves or tutting in disproval at the picture they made, Antonio sandwiched between the two, an arm slung over their shoulders, an arm from each slung across his, as he steered them to the elevator. A couple of minutes later found them outside of Arthur's door, all three knocking loudly.

"What the hell?!" Arthur nearly dropped his teacup at the loud banging coming from the other side of his door. Depositing it on the room service cart by the bed, he stood and made his way to the door, the sounds of drunken laughter meeting his ears and making him groan. Oh God, just what he needed. He opened the door, and was promptly knocked to the floor by the drunken men, the Spaniard still standing in the doorway and grinning like an idiot. Matthew just stared at the scene, wide-eyed, not really knowing what to do at that point. Alfred slept on through the commotion, oblivious to the curses slung at the two drunkards.

"Goddammit, get off of me, you bloody wankers!"


End file.
